


passionate (but i don't give no fucks)

by Peter_Prker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, and there's some alcohol, they make out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 05:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peter_Prker/pseuds/Peter_Prker
Summary: Where you and Peter hate each other so you make out in the bathroom at a party.





	passionate (but i don't give no fucks)

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back back again
> 
> pls leave me some love thank u

Peter Parker’s eyes are dark under the flashing party lights, darker than usual, and his hair takes on a blue and red shine. You wish you could say he looked ridiculous but in all honesty you know you’d be lying. He’s stupidly handsome, with or without colored hair. 

 

His eyes flit across the crowded living room, across the makeshift dance floor and the furniture surrounding it. His mouth is pressed into a firm line and you swallow down a laugh at the cluelessness on his face. 

 

And then he’s staring at you and your humor vanishes in an instant. 

 

The corners of his mouth pull upwards into a smirk, his eyebrows jumping teasingly and suddenly he doesn’t look so hopeless anymore. You clench your fists and fight the urge to shoot him a vulgar gesture from across the room. 

 

There’s no doubt you’ll have trouble living this down, the fact that he caught you staring. Maybe you could blame it on fatigue, or say you were just admiring how ugly he is.

 

_ As if. _

 

You cast your eyes to the ceiling, silently cursing yourself for this mistake. Someone nudges your shoulder. 

 

Ned Leeds is grinning at you, and okay maybe you want to die a little bit. ‘Hey,’ Hey says.

 

‘Hi,’ You reply, glancing at him. 

 

‘I saw you, uh, staring at Peter,’ he wiggles his eyebrows at you. If he weren’t so sweet most of the time you might’ve punched him. 

 

‘He had mustard on his shirt,’ You say. 

 

‘He doesn’t like mustard,’ Ned pokes your arm and you fold your own over each other. 

 

‘It’s all the more alarming then,’ You rock on your heels. ‘Shouldn’t you be with him anyways?’ Honest curiosity seeps through your voice. It’s strange to see them separated, the two are practically glued at the hip. Then again, it’s strange that someone as kind as Ned would even deign to friends with someone like Peter in the first place

 

‘We decided to divide and conquer,’ He jokes. ‘Here he comes anyways. Hey, Pete.’

 

‘Hey man,’ Peter appears on the opposite side of his friend, patting the boy twice on the back before letting his eyes roam to you. ‘Y/N.’

 

You hum, keeping your gaze trained ahead of you. He snorts.

 

‘And I’m out,’ Ned says, already backing away from the pair of you and throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Peter slides next to you in his place.

 

‘Hey,’ He says. You tense your jaw. ‘Saw you staring.’ 

 

‘No you didn’t,’ You say, still keeping your eyes away from the boy.

 

‘Yes I did.’

 

‘ _ No _ , you didn’t,’ You shake your head. ‘I was looking over you, you’re short.’ 

 

He makes a choked noise, crossed between a laugh and a sigh. ‘Way harsh.’  You simply shrug a shoulder. ‘I’d rather be short than unpleasant all-around.’ You whip your head around to glare at him only to be met with a teasing grin. ‘Gotcha.’

 

‘You’re insufferable,’ You snap.

 

‘So I’ve been told,’ He takes a swig out of a plastic cup you didn’t notice he was holding. Your eyes flit to it for a split second. ‘You want some? It’s punch.’

 

You laugh, throwing your head back. ‘Drink from the same cup as you? I’d rather drown.’

 

Peter waves his hand through the air like he’s been burned, but the smile stays plastered on his lips. ‘You are just a ball of sunshine tonight aren’t you?’ 

 

‘Oh, you have no idea.’

 

‘I think I might,’ he takes another long sip before leaning across you and setting it down on the soil of a potted plant. You reel backwards, the heat of his skin so close to yours taking you by surprise. ‘Relax.’ 

 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His hands are shoved in his pockets now, shoulders raised to his chin and under the flashing lights his usually crooked nose looks almost straight. He scrunches it up, as if sensing your thoughts.

 

‘Why’re you here anyways?’ He wonders, you tilt your head and eye him carefully. ‘You don’t like parties. Or even going outside if we’re being honest.’

 

‘And how would you know?’ You say.

 

‘Y/N, I’ve known you since freshman year,’ He cards his hands through the phantom colors in his hair. ‘Plus, it’s not exactly a secret.’

 

‘You don’t like them either,’ You snap, stumbling as someone pushes you out of their way. You smell alcohol on their breath so you don’t take it personal, but you could’ve done without falling against Peter’s shoulder. He grabs your arm to keep you at a semblance of distance. You pull away too quick to be casual. 

 

‘I like watching people make bad decisions.’ He says, acting as if nothing had changed. You can’t help but feel thankful.

 

‘Make you feel a little less shitty about yours?’ You inquire, a smirk pulling at your lips. To your chagrin he simply shrugs. 

 

‘I like watching you be a party pooper too,’ He adds to the movement. 

 

You almost mock him at the childish phrase before the insults hits you. ‘I am not!’

 

‘You are so,’ He chuckles. ‘I haven’t seen you do anything but mope around for an hour.’

 

‘So you’ve been watching me then?’

 

‘Once again,’ He brandishes his hands. ‘I like watching you be a deadbeat.’

 

‘I hate you,’ You say, harsher than you intend it but the insult only seems to add fuel to his own.

 

‘I bet you wouldn’t go out there and dance if your life depended on it,’  He shakes his head. ‘If everyone’s life depended on it. Man, we’d be fucked.’

 

Your eyes glint dangerously in the dim light. ‘Is that a challenge, Parker?’

 

‘Do you want it to be, Y/L/N?’ You narrow your eyes and he wrinkles his nose. ‘You’re way too much of a prude to take me up on it anyways.’

 

You scoff, letting your cardigan slip from your shoulders before flinging the garment at the boy, leaving you in a solid colored tank top. Peter presses his lips together in an attempt to hide is smirk but his eyes give him away, it only adds fuel to the flame of your anger. 

 

How dare he assume  _ anything _ about you, he doesn’t know you!

 

You turn on your heel, marching into the crowd of sweaty teens just as a new song begins to filter through the house. Cheers sound around you at the change of music.

 

Someone taps you on the shoulder and whip around to find one of your friends, dazed- eyed and grinning like a maniac. You smile back as she takes your hands to pull you deeper into the room. 

 

You spend the next two songs trying to keep up with your experienced friends, moving your body to the beat of the drums and trying not to wince at your own clumsiness when you smack more than one arm or shoulder. Someone hands you a glass filled with clear liquid and against your better judgment you tilt your head back and pour the drink down your throat. 

 

It stings on the way down, tasting of chemicals and nail polish remover. Someone nudges your shoulder with a laugh and shoves something new in your hand. A sticky can filled with barely three sips of an energy drink. 

 

‘Wash it down with this,’ They say, and you do- the bitter taste washing away and being replaced by a much sweeter one. 

 

Eventually- finally- you give up on dancing, deciding your point to be proven and stumble off of the dance floor.  Sweat clings to your neck and you gather your hair in a hand, suspending it above your skin for an attempt at cooling off. 

 

Peter stands in the same spot as before, face flushed and mouth slightly ajar. You march towards him, like soldier on your way to battle, and rip your cardigan from his hands. 

 

He stares at you for a second more before his gape stretches into a grin, and suddenly he’s doubled over and laughing like the joker on steroids. You breathe out a deep sigh.

 

‘Oh my  _ god,’ _ He yells, straightening his back as more giggles tumble from his lips. ‘What was  _ that?’  _

 

‘That was me proving you wrong,’ You shrug the piece of cloth back over your shoulders and brace your hands on your hips. Peter licks his lips and furrows his brows.

 

_ Damn him. _

 

He shakes his head. ‘I’m not sure if that’s what I had in mind.’ 

 

‘You get what you get, asshole.’ 

 

His foot taps against the wooden floor to the beat of an unknown song and suddenly you feel dizzy, a little embarrassed and ready to get the hell out of there. You take a step back, noting how Peter’s eyes immediately flit to your face, and begin to walk away when he grabs your wrist and pulls at you. Your skin doesn’t crawl at his touch and his skin is soft and warm against yours, but maybe it’s just the alcohol.

‘Hang on,’ He says. You cock your head and arch your brows. ‘Where are you going?’ 

 

‘Away,’ You deadpan. ‘I don’t know. Why do you care?’ 

 

‘You’ve had alcohol.’

 

‘So has everyone else,’ You say. You can still feel the sting of the drink in your throat, the heat of it warming your chest. 

 

‘Not me,’ He states.

 

‘Wow, happy for you,’  You glance over your shoulder, pulling at your arm softly. If you’re being completely honest with yourself you don’t think you’d really care if Peter stuck by your side for the rest of the night (although you would never say that to his face) but the crowd is becoming rowdier with each passing moment and your tongue looser. ‘I’m gonna go.’ 

 

You pull yourself free and he calls after you, even steps forwards to keep you from leaving again, but you’re already weaving your way towards the kitchen. Maybe if you find some cold water you can wash away the remnants of alcohol from your tongue.

 

The kitchen is less crowded than the living room. A few people mull around, red plastic cups gripped in their hands with a dark liquids sloshing over the brim and eating tiny snacks from giant bowls. Someone is knocked out on the tiled floor, a line of drool trailing down his cheek and you try not to nudge him as you pass by, edging near the end of the counter until you’re in the clear. 

 

Your fingers barely graze the edge of an empty cup before someone shoves a half full one in your palm instead. You stare longingly at your desired glass, now rolling away from the punch. 

 

Flash Thompson grins at you, flicking a lock of hair from his eyes. ‘Hey,’ He says.

 

‘Hi,’ You reply, shoving the drink back towards him. He shakes his head, a glint in his eyes. 

 

‘Drink it,’ He says. Your first thought is that he’s drugged it, that he’s planning on kidnapping you or killing you or something worse, then you remember it’s  _ Flash _ you’re talking to. He’s an ass but he’s no criminal. 

 

‘No thanks,’ A frown settles on Flash’s lips at the words and you avert your eyes from his. 

 

He tangles his hands in the hem of his  _ Star Trek _ , t-shirt- the fabric depicting a scene with a quote you can’t make out- he juts out his chin. ‘Don’t be a buzzkill.’ 

 

‘You know you’re the second person to call me that,’ You set the cup down on the counter and reach for the still empty one, an arms length away. The plastic is warm and dry against your fingers. ‘And this is the second time that I do not care.’ 

 

You turn and push the handle of the faucet upwards, dipping your cup underneath the cool stream. Flash scoffs behind you. ‘Why the hell are you here if you aren’t drinking?’ 

 

You turn around, eyes flashing with anger but you push it down. As much as you dislike Parker, Flash is quickly taking his spot as your second least favorite person on the planet (the first of course occupied by the president, but hell if Flash isn’t coming in close right about now)

 

The boy is standing too close to you when you face him fully, his chest almost pressing against yours. Your brain still feels too heavy from alcohol to push him away but your skin begins to crawl with nerves and disgust. 

 

‘For your information,’ You start, against your better judgment. ‘I  _ have _ had a shot and I don’t intend to take another so-’ You gesture vaguely with your hands before take a long swig from your cup. The water soothes your aching throat and you take another before eyeing Flash warily. ‘I think you’ve had too much, friend.’ 

 

‘Just have some,’ He pushes, grabbing the discarded cup from before and offering it once again. You shake your head firmly. Flash rolls his head. ‘You’re such a-’

 

‘ _ Hey,’ _ A hand lands on Flash’s shoulder following the angry voice. You peer over the boy and feel your anger only grow. 

 

‘Fuck off, Parker.’ 

 

_ Yeah fuck off, Parker.  _ You think before remembering you want Flash to fuck off a little bit more. 

 

‘She said she didn’t want any,’ Peter says, rounding Flash and angling himself in front of you. You roll your eyes.

 

‘Oh my  _ god,’ _ You mumble. ‘Peter-’ 

 

‘It’s none of your business,’ Flash barks. ‘She doesn’t know what she wants.’ 

 

‘Now, hang on-’ You start.

 

Peter scoffs, crossing his arms. ‘I think she’s capable of deciding for herself.’

 

‘Speaking of-’ 

 

‘Don’t you have someone to pine over?’

 

‘Don’t you have someone to piss off? Oh wait-’

 

‘ _ Jesus Christ _ ,’ You fling out your hands and both boys fall still, along with a group of bystanders watching the argument unfold. You pinch the bridge of your nose. ‘Do you  _ hear _ yourselves right now?’

 

‘Y/N,’ Peter says. 

 

‘ _ No _ ,’ You lift a finger and the words die on his tongue. You point at Flash. ‘You just need to  _ fuck off _ and take no for an answer, asshat.’ 

 

Flash balks, stumbling back at the assertion in your voice before finally fleeing the scene. Peter smirks, arms still crossed. You whirl on him, fury coating your features. The amusement on his face brittles and fades. 

 

‘You are  _ insufferable _ ,’ You yell. 

 

He furrows his brows. ‘I was just-’

 

‘Do you seriously think I can’t handle  _ Flash _ by myself? Get your head out of your ass, Peter!’ 

 

‘Y/N-’

 

‘Just leave me  _ alone,’ _ You scoff, letting your eyes rest on his face. Surprise flickers on his features before it’s joined by his own anger.

 

Peter shakes his head, glancing around before he grabs your wrist and drags you from the kitchen. Groans sound from behind you, at the lack of entertainment no doubt,  but you pay them no mind and instead try not to stumble as Peter weaves you through the crowded house. 

 

He shoves open the door of a bathroom. It’s empty, thank god, and he pushes you inside before shutting the door with a click.

 

‘I was trying to  _ help _ -’

 

‘I don’t care!’ You laugh but the sound is void of humor. You find yourself wishing you still had your water, but you’d set it down when Peter arrived and it the heat of the moment with your still-muddled brain the thought to simply turn around and turn on the faucet didn’t cross your mind. ‘You’re not my  _ boyfriend _ .’

 

Peter doesn’t speak for a moment, and if you were a little more sober you might be able to make out the expressions on his face but they’re all meaningless and just as confusing. ‘I know,’ He says, a bit softer. ‘I just wanted to help.’

 

‘I don’t need your help,’ You sound exasperated, but you can barely remember feeling that way. ‘So fuck off.’ 

 

You try to push past him, your heart racing in your chest but Peter grabs your arm before you get far. Your head whips upwards, gaze raking over his face.

 

His brows are still furrowed, eyes glinting with something dangerous and strange and his chest is heaving harder than it should. You barely notice your own doing the same. It occurs to you then that he really is beautiful under the dim bathroom lights, and if he wasn’t so much of an asshole with an insufferable superhero-complex you might want to kiss him. 

 

You might wanna do it anyways. 

 

His hand tightens against your skin and before you can comprehend it you’re thinking  _ screw it _ and pulling his body towards yours. He stumbles almost falling on top of you but managing to catch himself on the sink instead. A smirk pulls on his lips and you curse your clumsiness before his lips meet yours. 

 

The kiss is sloppy and to the beat of an overplayed song on creaky speakers but it’s  _ good _ . Peter’s lips are soft and warm and his hands are slipping against the bare skin of your hips in a way that makes you feel safe but excited at the same time. You card your fingers through his hair, pressing closer before he lifts you up by the backs of your thighs and plants you on the sink. A squeak leaves your lips and a laugh gurgles from his before you wrap your legs around his waist and you’re kissing again. 

 

His hands run up and down your sides, setting your skin on fire and  _ god  _ why did you wait this long to-

 

Someone bangs on the bathroom door and you break away, panting and flushed. ‘Hurry it up in there!’ A girl yells. 

 

You press a hand to your lips. ‘Sorry!’ Peter yells, his voice cracking among syllables. You can’t help the laugh that rings free. He looks up at you with a playful glare. 

 

‘Oh,’ The girl says quietly from outside at the sound of your voice. ‘ _ Gross _ .’ 

 

Now it’s Peter’s turn to laugh. He throws his head back, eyes sparkling with humor as the sound of footsteps resides. 

 

His hair is mussed and his cheeks are stained a brighter red than you thought possible but he’s smiling. And you’re smiling. And  _ okay _ maybe you don’t hate him anymore. 

 

His eyes focus on yours and his tongue pokes out through his teeth. ‘So how long have you been holding that kiss back?’ 

 

You scoff, shoving his face away. He laughs again and you think maybe you stopped hating him a long time ago. 


End file.
